For Dughal
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"The moon will be rising soon," the werewolf thought to himself as he drifted through the crowd of writhing dancers at the club, Gothic Noire. "I'll have to find someone to fuck soon or I'll spend the next month locked in my wolf shape." The moon's nearness was calling to his soul, even through the brick walls. He could feel his eyes shifting slowly from their natural emerald green to wolfen gold.
His head lifted and his eyes glowed a brilliant predator green as they reflected the odd club lighting. The glow winked out as he turned his head, changing the the angle of reflection. He leaned against the wall in a dark corner, delicately sifting through the scents looking for his prey. His sensitive nose was overpowered by the scents. There were too many warm, sweating bodies rubbing against each other in multiple parodies of sex. The aromas aggravated his need. Standing up, stretching to his full impressive height, he moved away from the wall and drifted like smoke through the dancers and the throbbing music, his cock semi-aroused in anticipation.
"I hate being in a rush like this every fucking month," he muttered to himself as he searched. He despised the curse that required him, every damned month, to bring a woman to climax before he could cum. But nothing less would generate enough power to keep control over his changes. Trying to find someone with enough passion to keep up with his need, and appetite, every full moon was a real pain in the ass.
Not having a woman of his own was his own damn fault and he knew it, but he couldn't afford to have anyone finding out about his true nature. "Oh, hey, you're cute, and by the way I'm a werewolf; is that okay with you?" he snarled to himself in a snide half-joke. "Oh Yeah, that'd go over real well. Then I'll have another freak chasing me cross-country with a shot-gun full of silver." He smiled at his own wit, revealing the gleam of sharp incisors. "As if silver was really going to do me any harm."
A clean fresh aroma drifted through the cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes, catching his notice. He felt his cock rise to full erection, pressing uncomfortably against his snug leather pants in response. A perfume of baby powder, soap and warm frustrated woman drew his fascination. He followed the enticing fragrance to a tiny female leaning against the wall, completely alone.
Shy as most predators tend to be, he drifted past her noting the waterfall of silvery blonde locks that flowed down past her shoulders to swing at her hips. She had electric blue eyes and wore a very short leather skirt. Her full breasts were barely contained by the pearl buttons of her tight white blouse. The black lights made the lace of her bra glow fluorescent white, making it clearly visible through the sheer material.
As she shifted her stance slightly, he caught a tiny glimpse of what had to be the edge of her white panties, also glowing under the black lights. His rigid flesh pressed insistently against his stomach as he studied the context of her delicate scent. He was pleased by the definite lack of a male scent hovering near her.
"So, she's not here with another male nor has she been touched by one recently. Good!" the werewolf thought, a cunning smile curling his lips. He walked past her through the door to the enclosed porch outside.
"Now, how to corner her and get her out into the parking lot for a fast fuck ..." he thought to himself.
Heather swept her long, silvery blonde hair behind her shoulder as she leaned against the wall of the crowded Goth club. She took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea and froze. Nervously, she realized that she could feel eyes boring into her flesh. Heather could feel someone's stare brushing like ghostly fingers across her body, lingering on her breasts and her far-too-exposed thighs. Nervously, she dropped a hand to the hem of her leather mini-skirt and tugged in a futile attempt to cover herself.
Apprehensively, Heather looked around her, seeking. But no one seemed to stand out as the source of the gaze she felt. She'd received a lot of curious looks, which she'd attributed to the shortness of her skirt and the tightness of her blouse, but this was far more intrusive, almost aggressive. She felt vaguely threatened.
"God, I should've never let Lisa talk me into wearing her clothes," she sighed ruefully. Heather pulled at the buttons of her sheer white blouse, fidgeting unconsciously. Her full breasts pushed relentlessly at the tiny pearls, opening gaps in her blouse. Her exposed virginal, white lace bra glowed brightly under the black light.
"Everything's too damned small, I'm gonna pop a button any second," she told herself. She tugged up the tops of her black seamed stockings that refused to hide beneath the hem of the leather skirt. The lacy straps of the snowy white garter belt showed every time she took a step. Perturbed and growling in frustration, Heather took a swallow of the sweet, potent drink. The harsh Gothic-Industrial music throbbed loudly, and she felt it pressing against her flesh like hands, closing in on her.
All around her people were dancing to the heavy music in slow, exaggerated movements. As she focused on the exotic costumes and heavy theatre make-up they wore, Heather realized that she still looked like an innocent schoolgirl compared to everyone else. There were people in leather, vinyl, lace, and velvets. Many were wearing considerably less and showing far more skin and cleavage than she.
Heather took a healthy swallow of her Long-Island Iced Tea and realized for the first time how strong the bartender had made it. The alcohol slid into the pit of her empty stomach and she suddenly felt light-headed.
"Maybe I should go outside," Heather mumbled out loud as she felt the alcohol hit her brain. "Thank God I didn't wear those spiked heels Lisa tried to talk me into, or I'd be flat on the floor by now."
With careful steps, Heather walked to the doorway of the enclosed outside porch. Practically no one was out there. She walked over toward a dark corner. The crisp autumn breeze blew some of the fumes away and Heather's mind cleared a little. Breathing deep, she smiled as she looked up at the clear stars, turned and promptly walked into a firm, hard-muscled body.
